The knock wasn't coming from the window this time.
It came from above.
Three rhythmic thuds echoed through the roof — slow, deliberate, like something testing the weight of my patience.
I didn't like that.
I reached out, my fingers twitching, and summoned both my crossbows. They appeared in a burst of blue sparks — a crackle of energy and memory — humming in my hands.
I aimed them at the ceiling.
"Really? They've got Mormons in the Dream Realm too?" I muttered. "Damn… this place really is hell."
Then the ceiling broke open.
A man dropped down from the shadows like a thrown spear — landing in a kneel, his cassock fluttering around him like wings of night. Two long blades gleamed in his hands, their edges burning with faint white fire.
"Never call me a bloody Mormon."
He came at me before the words even finished leaving his mouth. His right blade swept toward my throat. I twisted away just in time, feeling the heat of the flames lick my skin. I rolled back and fired an arrow straight at his head.
The priest sliced through it effortlessly.
The arrow shattered midair — blue sparks scattering like glass.
The Spell's voice followed immediately:
[Your memory has been destroyed.]
"Great," I hissed. "Guess those new arrows were junk. Should've checked them first."
The priest straightened slowly, a wild grin twisting his lips. His purple eyes gleamed like twin shards of amethyst behind his round glasses.
"Those who fight the enemies of the Sun," he said, raising both blades, "must utter their names to their foes — so they know who it is that sends them to judgment. Sun God 1:1."
I blinked, lowering my crossbows slightly.
"...Are you quoting a nonexistent book from a dead god?"
His grin faded into fury. The flames on his swords brightened.
"Blasphemer."
He lunged again — faster than before. His movement blurred, and the air screamed as he thrust one blade forward.
I dodged — mostly.
The sword nicked my side, slicing through armor and skin. Pain exploded through me, a burning that didn't stop. I staggered, pressing a hand to the wound — my blood hissed where the flames touched it, bubbling like acid.
The priest's laugh echoed through the cathedral.
"My name," he said, lifting both swords, "is Father Alexander Anderson. The righteous blade of God."
His grin widened, maniacal. "And for a monster, you sure have a dirty mouth."
"Of course it's an Alex," I muttered, grimacing. "It's always an Alex."
He came again — but this time I was ready.
I ducked low, spun, and fired both crossbows at once. Twin bolts of bloodshot energy whistled through the air, one grazing his cheek, the other piercing the edge of his scalp. A spray of crimson followed.
The blood should've been mine to control.
I reached out with my will — and immediately screamed as my power recoiled. The blood caught fire in midair, burning white-hot until it evaporated.
"Oh, trying to grasp my blood, vampire?" Anderson sneered. "Won't work. I've been blessed by the Sun God."
I wiped my mouth, smiling through the pain.
"Who said I needed to use your blood?"
I slashed open my palm. Blood gushed out — thick and dark. I shaped it into a quiver of crimson arrows midair, hardening them with sheer will, and fired in a rapid blur.
Anderson deflected almost all of them — his blades a white whirlwind — but a few found their mark, slamming into his shoulder, his thigh, his side. Each hit made him stumble back, leaving thin trails of steam rising from his cassock.
But the strain hit me fast. Every shot drained me. I needed a plan.
Then I had one.
I loaded another arrow, but as it left the string, I split it — one into five. Each shard of blood spun and ignited midair, exploding on contact.
The cathedral filled with fire and smoke. Stone shattered. Anderson stumbled back, coughing through the mist of blood.
"Now we're even," I hissed.
But before I could reload, something slammed into me — a shoulder, armored and heavy. Anderson tackled me full force. We crashed through the wall, shards of stained glass slicing past like razors.
I hit the ground outside, rolling through the dust. My crossbow clattered away.
He stood above me, his silhouette framed by the burning window. His grin was wild — his faith a kind of madness.
I swung the crossbow like a club, slamming it against his ribs. The impact barely made him flinch. I went for another swing — and this time he caught it mid-motion.
I snarled, twisting my hand, but before I could react, he jerked me forward — ready to skewer me.
That's when the ground shook.
A deep growl split the silence.
A crimson mass burst from the earth below, jaws snapping — Beast.
It emerged beneath me, catching my fall, and roared, the sound shaking the stones.
Anderson jumped back, barely dodging as Beast lunged, its claws slashing. I used the opening to raise my crossbow again, firing a scatter of explosive arrows. The blasts lit up the night, hurling dust and debris into the air.
"Die, you damned priest!" I shouted. "Go meet your god already!"
Beast pounced, claws raking. One strike caught Anderson's arm — snapping bone with a wet crack. He screamed but didn't retreat. Instead, with his remaining strength, he swung one of his burning swords in a desperate arc.
The blade cut deep into Beast's skull.
The creature howled, collapsing.
"Bastard!" I yelled, unsummoning Beast before the finishing blow could land. Its form dissolved into red mist, retreating to safety within my soul-sea.
But Anderson didn't stop.
He came at me again, dragging his broken arm, blood dripping down his side, eyes glowing with fanatical fire.
I moved to dodge — too slow.
One burning blade swept through the air and — SHK! — my arm hit the ground before I realized it was gone.
White pain shot through me. I screamed, staggering back, clutching the bleeding stump.
Anderson laughed. "Suffer, demon!"
In reflex, I aimed the crossbow with my remaining arm and fired point-blank. The arrow hit his face — BOOM! — blowing out one of his eyes and half his cheek.
He should've fallen. He didn't.
I stumbled back, panting, my vision doubling. The world tilted.
I could feel my body failing. My strength slipping.
And then… I sensed it.
The pit.
All that blood I'd collected — my blood, the blood of beasts, the blood of prey — it called out to me from the cathedral below.
I reached for it with my will.
The ground cracked open. A tide of crimson rose like a wave, swirling around me. I dragged every drop toward myself — rivers of blood spiraling through the air, thickening, condensing until my veins screamed in response.
This was the largest amount I'd ever commanded. My skin burned, my mind fractured under the strain.
Anderson stopped mid-laugh. For the first time, I saw fear flicker in his one remaining eye.
I condensed the blood — tighter and tighter — shaping it into five arrows. Each one pulsed like a heart, dense enough to hum with power.
Then I fired.
The arrows shrieked through the air, faster than lightning, and when they hit, they didn't pierce — they grew.
Each elongated into a spear — five crimson pillars impaling him to the ground.
He twitched, coughing blood that hissed on contact with his holy flames.
"Try to break those, bastard," I rasped. "Not even a fallen devil could destroy those bad boys."
For a moment, it was over.
Then he started laughing again.
And as I turned toward him — ready to silence him for good — something loomed behind me.
I froze.
The sound was like armor grinding against stone.
I turned, and there it was — towering, faceless, a nightmare given form. A helmet of obsidian steel, red lights burning where eyes should be. Its blade glowed crimson.
Before I could react — before I could even breathe — it drove its sword straight through my chest.
The impact ripped me off my feet.
My armor shattered. Blood sprayed out in an arc as I was thrown through another wall, slamming into the dirt hard enough to crack stone.
The Spell's voice whispered in my ear again:
[Your memory has been destroyed.]
My vision blurred.
I was bleeding out. My strength gone.
This… this was how it ended?
I pressed my trembling hand against the wound, trying to hold the blood in — trying to keep something, anything, inside.
It wasn't enough.
My body trembled, the edges of my sight fading to black.
In one last, desperate effort, I reached out again — calling to the blood. All of it. Every drop that I could get my hands on